“I’m pretty good in the kitchen, I’ll have you know.”
Kaitlyn rubs her belly. “He puts extra cheese on it for me.”
Back in high school, Callan was the school’s jock. Totally into fitness—he’s still physically fit—and while he always ate well, I never saw him as the kind of guy to enjoy cooking.
“When did you get so good in the kitchen?” I ask and instantly regret it. Ugh. Sometimes I need to engage my brain before my mouth. He’s been on his own with Kaitlyn for two years. The man learned to cook out of necessity. “I didn’t mean. I’m just—”
He laughs to make light of it and I’m grateful. “You’re coming for pizza then?” he asks
“How can I say no to extra cheese?” I look straight ahead and reclip my hair. “Is it true, that at the fire station, you guys all cook for one another?”
“Yup, it’s true.”
“And you have competitions?”
“I wouldn’t call it a competition.” He lifts his head and his chest puffs up, a playful grin on his face. “Not when the guys don’t really stand a chance against me.”
I laugh at that, feeling so much lighter. I love how he puts me at ease. “Wow, that’s some ego you’ve got there, my friend.”
He grins. “Only because I can back it up.”
“I bet you can,” I say and before I can help myself my gaze drops to take in the lovely bulge in his crotch. He shifts, and my gaze flies back to his. Oh my God, I was just checking out my friend’s crotch, and he caught me doing it.
Instead of calling me on it, and for that I’m grateful, he says, “I can give you a tour of the station if you like.”
“Yeah, actually that might be fun. Maybe we can arrange something with the Boys and Girls club in the coming weeks.”
“That would be fun, Daddy,” Kaitlyn says, but I can only imagine she’s been there numerous times.
“I’ll look into it. As the top chef, I have a lot of pull.”
Chuckling at his sense of humor, I sit back and relax into the seat as he drives us to his house. He coasts into the driveway and as soon as we come to a complete stop, Kaitlyn unbuckles, jumps from the back seat, and runs to the small group of kids skipping in the next driveway.
“She’s such a happy little girl,” I say to Callan, my heart warming at the image of the kids playing. It reminds me of my own childhood, and my two older sisters. They too became teachers, following in our mother’s footsteps, and they’ll be home with their husbands and kids for the gathering.
He smiles, his look distant, like he’s remembering happier times, and my stomach clenches. It must be hard to watch his little girl grow up without a mother, to think about a mother missing out on all her child’s life. Wanting to lighten things, I reach for my door handle and say, “So what’s the secret to this pizza, and please don’t tell me it’s lard.”
He grins. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
“Really, you’ll share your big secret?”
“I think my secret is safe with you, Gemma.”
I lift my chin an inch. “Maybe I’ll slip it to one of the guys at the station when we’re on tour. Knock your ego down a peg or two.”
“Then I’d say you’re forgetting something.”
I narrow my eyes. What on earth is he talking about. “What am I forgetting?”
He throws his arm around me, and a quiver goes through me. He jerks it back, clearly mistaking my reaction this time and I can’t blame him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You just surprised me earlier, that’s all.” It’s true he did. I know Callan would never hurt me, but he doesn’t need to know that Brad would put his fist up to my face in anger, just to see me flinch. I hate how long it took me to end it. I’m ashamed by it, to be honest, though I shouldn’t be. For those who don’t understand abuse, staying can sometimes be easier. It takes courage to leave. Guys like Brad prey on that fear.
My gaze moves over his handsome face, his gorgeous blue eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if my secret is safe with him. Then again, what good would come out of telling him about my ex’s possessive behavior, the violence he could barely keep on simmer? A guy like Callan Ward, well, he’d likely go after him, and that would bring nothing but trouble to his family and loved ones.
“What am I forgetting?” I ask, bringing the conversation back around.
“You helped me pick out Zoe’s promise ring. It killed you to keep it a secret from her. But you did.”
I smile at that. “I swear I was ready to burst.”
“Yeah, you were like a great big hippopotamus holding its breath for weeks.”
I put one hand on my hip and glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“It was a compliment,” he says with a laugh.
I shake my head. “Yes, how could I mistake being called a hippo as anything other than a compliment.”
His head drops, hangs low in shame. “I’ve clearly been hanging around six-year olds too much.”
“You definitely need some adult company, Callan.”
“That I do.”
I resist the urge to ask what else he might need as he starts up the driveway and my gaze drops to his very fine ass, showcased by low slung jeans. I follow him up the walkway, and he opens the door and gestures for me to enter. My heart jumps into my throat when I step into the entranceway and glance around. The house is warm, comfy, and a bit untidy, but everywhere I look, I see love, and laughter—pictures of family, of a wife that hadn’t changed in two years. Because she’s gone. The last time I was here was four years ago, when they bought the place and had a housewarming party.
His
